


They Sure Aren’t Little Green Men

by Softfire



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softfire/pseuds/Softfire
Summary: Din Djarin and Cara Dune end up in a galaxy that is far far away from their own. Will they find safety or another fight on this unknown planet?
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

They Sure Aren’t Little Green Men

Chapter 1: Finding a New Purpose  
Blaster fire rang out along the crowded streets of a thriving hamlet on a no-name Outer Rim planet, its citizens scattering. Some darted into dark alleys, others were lucky to find refuge in various clay buildings, while a few unfortunate souls lay unmoving on the muddy thorofare. 

Din Djarin and Cara Dune ducked behind a food stall to take cover. It appeared their quarry came to the realization that he was being pursued. The Mandalorian signed deeply to quell his rising temper. It had been six months since he had handed over Grogu to the Jedi and ever since he was quick to anger and more impulsive than ever.

Cara risked a glance at her friend between incoming blaster rounds. One blast left a smoking burn in the food stall sign directly above her head.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Mando,” she admonished.

“I’m done with this,” was Din’s only response as he rose from his hiding spot and activated the Darksaber. The blade hummed as he raised it to block a barrage of blaster bolts, slowly closing the distance to their bounty. Any civilians that had attempted to watch the ordeal scrambled further away at the sight of a Mandalorian in full beskar armour wielding a strange semi-glowing weapon.

Din continued to push forward, roughly 50 paces remained until he was toe to toe with his prey. In times like these he truly felt like a predator and since giving up his child he almost relished in these moments. If he would only admit that he was missing Grogu something fierce and that anger was easier than feeling sorry for himself. Going after bounties allowed him to have some purpose in his life, at least until he figured out everything associated with the Darksaber and Moff Gideon’s declaration that he was technically the Mand’alor.

His steady pace brought him close enough now that he could see the fear in their bounty’s face. Before Din could take a measured, warning swing of the Darksaber at the man, a blaster bolt pinged off his left pauldron from behind. Din’s left shoulder dipped with the impact, nearly taking him to his knee.

“Mando!” Din heard Cara shout. Without turning to look at her, he knew she was taking aim and returning shots at whomever was cowardly enough to shoot someone in the back.

“It appears my backup has arrived!” The bounty stated smugly at Din, his fear all but gone.

“You might have backup but I doubt it’ll do you any good,” Din responded coldly, shifting the Darksaber to his left hand. He deactivated it and clipped it to his belt. With his right hand now free, he pulled his blaster out of its holster.

“We’ll see about that! I’ve got friends in high places,” the man smirked and looked up at the sky as a decommissioned A-Wing flew low showering the street with several rounds of blaster fire as it passed overhead.

Din took advantage of the distraction and tackled the man to the ground. He then used a well timed punch to the man’s face, effectively rendering him useless for the immediate future as blood spewed from a very broken nose.

Cara approached, shouldering her rifle, “we need to get out of here before that A-Wing circles back.” She leaned down and offered her hand to the Mandalorian. “Even though I’m sure you still like these odds,” she added dryly.

“Come on Cara, you’ve known me for how long now? Do you really think I’d try to take down an A-Wing single handedly?” he asked his friend, feigning shock.

“You did take down Moff Gideon’s Tie Fighter all on your own,” she stated blandly as the trio quickly made their way into an alley, the Mandalorian training his blaster on their bounty.

“I was wearing my jetpack at the time. I’m not wearing it now,” Din countered.

“You had just been blown up only an hour or so before that!”

“I guess you’re right. Come on, the Crest is back this way,” he jerked his hand in the direction they needed to go.

To be fair, it wasn’t his Razor Crest. The total annihilation of his beloved ship, and all of his worldly possessions, still brought a twinge of pain in his chest whenever he thought of what happened on Tython. The ‘new to him’ Razor Crest had been found on Bestine of all places by one of Greef’s Guild loyalists and brought back to Nevarro. The Mandalorian and Grogu had wormed their way into the older man’s heart and Greef wanted to commend Din’s bravery and honour by replacing the ship. At first, Din didn’t want to accept, he wasn’t one to consent to charity but Greef said he’d lower the Mandalorians guild price to make the replacement ship worth his while.

In the hours following Grogu’s rescue, Din had asked for one final favor from Boba Fett and Fennec Shand. He requested to have them drop him off on Arvala-7, specifically at Quill’s ranch. He spent a couple of weeks there attempting to clear his head. Unfortunately, Din never found the clarity he was searching for and cut his losses before finding a ride back to Nevarro hell bent on working through his sorrow with his fists, blaster, and begrudgingly the Darksaber.

Upon returning to Nevarro, Din went straight to Greef and demanded a puck. He ended up with not just the puck but also the new Razor Crest. Needless to say, having a ship again allowed him to sweep up nearly every available bounty puck for the Guild and Greef couldn’t have been happier. The current job was the only remaining bounty.

Din shoved his blaster into the bounty’s back, “walk faster!” They could hear the engines of the A-Wing getting closer and there were still several blocks from the landing fields. Approaching the end of the narrow alley, Cara crept to the opening and peered up and down the next boulevard. It appeared to be clear and looking to the north she could see the Crest shining in the afternoon sunlight. Turning her eyes to the sky, she watched the A-Wing turn further to the south.

“It’s now or never,” she announced with steeled resolve.

“Move!” Din commanded, roughly grabbing the bounty’s shirt collar, and shoved him forward at a quick pace. The Mandalorian’s hackles raised the closer they got to the town’s main entrance when they weren’t attacked by the bounty’s allies.

Quickly passing underneath an archway, the trio found themselves completely exposed. The safety of the Razor Crest loomed just ahead of them and Din picked up the pace with Cara flanking them on the right. Hitting the code on his vambrace the ship’s main hold opened with a loud hiss.

Cara stepped onto the ramp and turned around to cover Din and their bounty. Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough in raising her rifle as a blaster shot scorched across her exposed right bicep. Another blaster pinged into the back of Din’s head and a third grazed along his left side causing him to stumble the final steps to the ramp. Cara aimed her rifle at a group of ten heavily armed criminals now standing under the archway, firing in quick succession.

Their bounty took the opportunity to spin and ram his knee into Din’s stomach catching the bounty hunter off guard. He recovered quickly though and brought a quick left hook up to catch the man under the chin. Their bounty leaned forward and then threw his entire weight at Din. They both tumbled to the ground, all the air whooshing out of Din’s lungs while his head slammed against partially dried mud. Din rolled to the right and was back up onto his feet surprising his opponent at his quickness. The bounty learned forward again but this time he reached into his right boot and pulled out a vibroknife and lunged at the Mandalorian.

While Din had been able to get back on his feet quickly, his vision tunneled. He was still attempting to pull air back into his lungs causing his reaction time to be delayed. He felt the vibroblade puncture his left side just under his ribcage. He grunted against the blinding pain but brought his right elbow into the other man’s neck and then he jammed his knee up into his face. The bounty collapsed to the ground unconscious. Din stood where he was, breathing heavily and pulled the vibroknife out of his side. Dark red blood flowed freely from the jagged wound.

“Kriff, Mando!” Cara shouted. She sprinted down the ramp and threw her arm around his shoulders guiding him as quickly as she dared into the Crest’s hull.

Before Cara could ask any questions, Din hit the command on his vambrace to close the hull and then stumbled toward the ladder up to the cockpit. He teetered to the right and his shoulder slammed into a metal rack. Pushing his injured body away from the shelving unit Din forced himself forward until his left hand grabbed one of the metal bars to the ladder.

“Din, you can’t be serious right now! How are you going to fly? You’re bleeding all over the kriffing place.”

The shrillness of Cara’s voice stopped him for only a fraction of a second. “I’m going to have to.” 

Without another word he pulled himself up the ladder. He could hear his friend climbing up behind him, ready to catch him if he faltered. Hauling himself over the edge, he cursed under his breath at the burn in his side. Why did it always seem as though missions that should be easy never were?

Ignoring the feeling of blood leaching from the wound, Din strode to the pilots seat and fell into it with a grunt. Reaching up he flipped the various switches and started the ignition and launch sequences. His blood soaked gloves left red streaks on the console.

The Razor Crest’s engines fired and rumbled and the ship rose into the air. Din hated the fact they were essentially running from a fight but he was smart enough to recognize a losing battle. As they rose higher into the air, just below the low hanging clouds, alarms started blaring. The A-Wing was quickly approaching, the Crest within firing range.

Din pushed the ship into a higher altitude, preparing for an evasive maneuver. “Cara, you better buckle up,” he ground out as the A-Wing began taking shots. Hoping the Ex-Rebel Shock Trooper did as he commanded, Din set the Crest into a barrel roll and then dove into a thick cloud. Instead of continuing in a descent he flared the wing flaps and forced the Crest to a near halt midair and angled the nose in the opposite direction. Then he hit the thrusters, gambling as they shot higher again hoping their pursuers would anticipate a continuous dive.

The maneuver paid off as the A-Wing continued its descent toward terra firma. Din’s hands shook as he gripped the handles and took a few steadying breaths as they broke atmo.

“That could have gone better,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“No kidding!” Cara scoffed from the copilot seat. “Let me take a look at that stab wound,” she added quietly.

Din’s hands loosened on the ship’s handles and then he slowly pulled his helmet off his head and set it on the console. Even though it had been half a year since he had broken his creed to allow Grogu and subsequently his friends to see his face, he still didn’t consider it second nature to have it removed in the presence of others. Meeting Bo-Katan and Boba Fett had poked holes into his understanding of what it meant to be a Mandalorian. However it seemed anything to do with the Creed he was originally taught was up for debate, especially as he continued to bleed onto his pilot seat.

“I’ll look at it in a moment. I need to find a good destination first,” he responded while checking the various planets and moons within a quick flight.

While he reviewed their options, Cara stood from the copilot seat and stared out the windshield.

“What in the holy galaxy is that!” she exclaimed while pointing ahead of them.

Din raised tired eyes in the general direction Cara was motioning. At first he didn’t see anything but as he continued to stare, a faint twinkling appeared. He shook his head thinking he was losing too much blood from his wounds. Leaning forward in his seat he watched as the faint twinkling started to swirl in a rainbow of colors.

“What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, Din. Whatever it is I think we need to get away from it,” Cara answered.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Grabbing the steering handles, the Mandalorian turned left only the Crest didn’t respond. He jerked the handles again in the direction he wanted the ship to go but it continued forward. He sat still, with his hands lightly on the handles, and he could feel the normal thrumming of the Crest but also a distinct pull toward the swirling light.

“Uh, are you sure I don’t need to tell you twice?” his friend chided.

“The Razor Crest isn’t responding. It’s almost like we’re being pulled toward that vortex.”

“What would cause that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a wormhole. Whatever it is, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to get out of this gravity pull.”

“A wormhole, Din?” Cara asked incredulously. “Wormholes don’t exist! Those were just tales oldtimers told children.”

Before the Mandalorian could give a sarcastic rebuttal, the vortex pull grew stronger. Both occupants could feel the Razor Crest’s momentum increase. The metal groaned against an invisible pressure. Din gripped the handles tightly but he might as well be attempting to control a young bluurg that didn’t want to be ridden. Without warning, the ship’s nose dipped into the swirling colors and it shot forward faster than hyperspace. Cara was thrown backwards against the copilot seat and landed with a thud on the hard metal floor. Din felt his body slam heavily into his seat, the pressure on his wound making his vision blur and blacken. He fought to stay conscious but he knew it was a losing battle.

Then as quickly as the rush began it was over. The oppressive pressure disappeared, leaving both Din and Cara breathing heavily. Cara pulled herself from the floor and to her feet and leaned heavily against the copilot seat.

“I’ll say it again, what for the love of the galaxy was that?”

“I’m not sure that’s really our main concern now,” Din responded while messing with the ship’s controls. He paused to wipe a cold sweat from his forehead. “That can’t be good,” he muttered quietly to himself.

“What?”

“The Razor Crest’s system doesn’t recognize where we are,” Din replied in a measured tone.

“What do you mean?” she questioned.

“I mean, the Crest’s system doesn’t have names or really any information on any of the planets and moons nearby. I can see this one here,” he pointed to the hologram illuminating the console. “It appears to be the only planet that has any life. It’s third from that star ahead of us, but the scanner is picking up over 7 billion intelligent life forms.”

“7 billion?”

“Yes. So it looks like it’s our only option. I don’t want to attempt to land on a different planet when I know we don’t have enough portable oxygen. Not to mention I don’t see anything that looks remotely familiar. There aren’t even any hyperspace lanes.”

“I guess you’ve got a point. Let’s hope these life forms are friendly.”

“At least there seems to be a little bit of luck on our side since we are close to this planet. We should be on the ground soon,” Din attempted optimism as he steered the Razor Crest into the planet’s orbit and started the sequence to enter the atmosphere.

As they descended, they both heard a distinct ping of something hitting the ship’s exterior. “Whatever that was, let’s hope it didn’t cause any damage,” the Mandalorian sighed. Adrenaline was starting to take over as he attempted to mentally prepare for what awaited them once they landed.

The further the Razor Crest got to the surface of the planet, the darker it became. Of course they would be landing during night. There were lights dotting the countryside but they were few and far between and partially obscured by dense foliage.

The computer system located a decent sized clearing and Din lowered the landing gears. Another few seconds and the ship touched the ground. Sighing heavily, Din relaxed into the pilot seat, his wounds protesting. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing while his side burned and throbbed.

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he sat there, it could have been seconds or five minutes, either way he wasn’t ready for when an alarm started beeping. Din groaned as he sat up straighter holding his side, and glanced at the information display.

“Din, it looks like someone’s approaching the ship,” Cara informed him.

“That didn’t take long at all, did it?” he mused aloud.

Pulling himself to his feet he swayed slightly. Steadying his weakening body against the seat, he grabbed his helmet and put it back on. “Let’s go see if we can get some information on where we are.”

“Fine but I’m going down the ladder first. I’m pretty sure you’re either going to pass out, fall or both,” Mando’s friend stated dryly as she quickly stepped ahead of him to the exit hole.

“And you think you’d be able to catch me?”

“You know I could,” she bantered, raising an eyebrow.

Din had to take several breaks to climb down the ladder, causing Cara’s concern to ratchet up several notches. With his helmet back on she couldn’t gauge how pale he was and if he was sweating. She could however hear his labored breathing through the modulator.

When they reached the back of the cargo hold, Din pressed the code on his vambrace to open the main bay door. A blast of cold air rushed in as they slowly walked along the ramp. When they reached the bottom, they got their first glimpse of what they hoped was a female human standing a safe distance away, a large gun-like weapon held firmly in her hands.

“Hello! We were hoping you could tell us what planet this is and also where we might be able to find lodging. I didn’t see much on the ship’s controls during the landing sequence,” Din called out to the woman.

Cara and Din weren’t prepared for the reaction they received. They both, in stunned silence, watched the weapon fall to the snow covered ground. Then the woman’s jaw slackened, her brown eyes rolled back, and her body unceremoniously dropped to the cold earth.

“Huh. That wasn’t at all what I was expecting,” the ex-rebel shock trooper deadpanned.

“Cara, would you go grab a few of the translator vocoders from the weapons compartment? I definitely feel like we are going to need them,” Din surmised.

“The implant ones?”

“Yeah, there should be at least five or six of them in the bottom drawer.”

“I hate those!” Cara whined as she walked back into the Razor Crest’s cargo bay.

Din slowly moved toward the unconscious woman pondering where they could have landed to elicit such a response. Hopefully they would know soon enough.


	2. This Place Called Why Oming on the Planet Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our OC and she meets Mando and Cara.
> 
> Oh, my OC drops a few eff bombs in here. Sorry!

Chapter 2: This Place Called Why Oming on the Planet Earth

9:14 PM MT  
Friday, January 8, 2021  
Outside Tower Junction, Wyoming

Former CIA Operative, Layla Boardman, had just finished her second glass of wine and was settling herself on the leather couch for another episode of Cobra Kai when the various tchotchkes on a set of built in shelves started rattling. The 65 inch flat screen TV, mounted on the wall, vibrated as a low rumble sounded overhead.

Layla stood quickly, the fleece throw blanket she had been cozying under fell forgotten to the hardwood floor. She dashed to the set of big floor to ceiling picture windows along the family room’s northern wall of the modern ranch-style house. Peering out the bare windows she caught a glimpse of an aircraft flying just above the treetops.

“Shit! That can’t be good,” Layla muttered aloud as she watched the aircraft’s trajectory pass beyond her line of sight in the darkness. 

Without another thought, she sprinted out of the family room and to the sliding glass door in the adjacent kitchen. She shoved her bare feet into a pair of dark green Hunter boots, haphazardly slung on her Spider ski jacket, and pulled a hat onto her head. Her body part way out the door she turned around and grabbed the shotgun leaning against the doorframe.

In an instant, she was running down the back porch steps to a waiting Ranger Crew 1000, key still in the ignition from a ride earlier in the day. The UTV started easily and then she was guiding the vehicle through a large metal gate separating the once functioning horse ranch and the Wyoming wilderness beyond. 

Mentally she tallied the items available in the Ranger: 1 - emergency blanket, 2 - basic med kit, 3 - flares, 4 - rope, 5 - Bowie knife, 6 - shotgun shells. While she wasn’t too concerned for her own safety, there was something that was bothering her about the aircraft. It didn’t sound like any airplane she had seen before and it also didn’t have any exterior lights. At least it didn’t have exterior lights on, which meant there potentially was an electrical issue on board or the pilot was attempting to keep a low profile.

Her tenure at the CIA made her privy to several types of unmanned drones and even prototype aircrafts but still this one didn’t match anything she was aware of. Perhaps it was Russian or Chinese in origin. Before she left her covert ops position eight months ago there had been rumors of Iran attempting to join the new space race. The likelihood of any of those countries being ballsy enough to fly in US airspace, let alone over the continent of North America, was weak at best.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to find but she assumed the worst. Layla drove the UTV, in the general direction the aircraft had flown, along old hunting trails that wound their way through the dense foliage and passed a three acre pond. The partially frozen pond had a light dusting of freshly fallen snow that sparkled in the moonlight. If she wasn’t heading toward what she guessed would be a crash site she would have stopped to admire the beauty of the landscape. Yellowstone National Park had a way of casting a spell on its visitors.

Pressing more firmly on the gas, she pushed the vehicle faster. The cold January night air stung Layla’s pale cheeks through the windowless doors. Weaving through the trees she stopped short upon finding a perfectly landed aircraft sitting in a large clearing. There wasn’t any debris or fire, it simply wasn’t a crash site.

Shutting the engine off, Layla grabbed the shotgun and climbed out of the Ranger. Stepping into the clearing she got a better view of what sat before her. It was unlike any aircraft she had ever seen, except maybe in any number of Sci-Fi movies. While attempting to define what she was looking at, a soft hissing noise emanated from the UFO. As a ramp slowly lowered, Layla gripped the shotgun tighter but remained rooted in place unable to move.

Two figures walked down the ramp towards her. One looked like a normal woman, beautiful but dangerous and dressed in strange clothes. The other could be a man or a very advanced robot, Layla wasn’t sure.

Both individuals stopped at the bottom of the ramp and acknowledged her with stiff head nods. Then, the shiny one raised both hands in a placating motion and spoke in a language that didn’t sound like anything Layla had ever heard before.

All of her CIA training was forgotten in the blink of an eye, or in this case, the moment that the person-like thing spoke. Nothing at Langley could have prepared her for this. Her jaw dropped in shock and it was nearly impossible to breathe. She felt her grip loosen on the shotgun and it landed at her booted feet. Her heart was hammering against her chest and then the worst part, the tunneling of her vision on the silver helmet. Finally, with both her body and mind on total overload, her brown eyes rolled up and she crashed unceremoniously onto the cold earth.

If anyone would later ask Layla what her most embarrassing moment would be, it would be this one. She would definitely put it higher than the time she threw up on Devon Mitchell’s shoes at the 8th grade dance. Or even above that time, in 2001, when she tried crowd surfing at the Blink-182 concert. She didn’t jump far enough off the stage and missed the outstretched arms of her fellow concert goers. Fainting in front of strangers, albeit strangers possibly from another planet, but fainting nonetheless won the award for most embarrassing moment.

The present came creeping back to her in the form of hands on her head and face. For a beat she couldn’t remember where she was or why she was so cold. Then a sharp pain behind her right ear, close to the hairline made consciousness rush back. She took in a deep breath and forced her eyes open.

Seeing the strange woman hovering above her and comprehending that she was lying on her back in the snow, instincts kicked in. Layla, crunched her body and kicked the woman with both feet causing her to lose her balance. She scrambled onto her hands and knees, feeling in the snow for the fallen shotgun.

“Looking for this?” a man’s voice questioned from underneath the silver helmet. He held her shotgun loosely in his right hand, barrel pointed to the cloudless sky.

Layla shook her head to clear it and rose to her full height. How was it possible for her to understand him when she swore on her Grandmother’s grave that he hadn’t spoken in any language she recognized.

“How… why… I know I didn’t fucking understand you before,” she stuttered out a full sentence.

The man in silver tapped the right side of his helmet where ears would be, “we put an implant vocoder on you. My friend and I are also wearing one, it allows us to understand each other.”

Remembering the sharp pain on the right side of her head, Layla raised her hand and felt behind her ear. A circular metal device, no larger than a nickel, was attached to her skin.

“How do I get it off?” she practically shrieked, hands starting to shake uncontrollably.

“Calm down. We’ll show you how to remove it before we leave,” the woman stated with an irritated eye roll. “Now tell us where we are.”

“Just wait a goddamn second! How about you tell me who the fuck you are, where you came from, and we’ll go from there,” Layla retorted. “You’re on my land and frankly you’re lucky I’m the one who found you. Trust me, there are plenty of people that won’t be as accommodating as I may be.”

“What are you going to do? I believe we have your weapon,” the woman threatened.

“Enough!” the man roared.

Layla took a reflexive step back from the duo. Perhaps if she could keep them talking, she might be able to methodically inch to the UTV and race out of this strange nightmare.

The man breathed a deep bone weary sigh and then held the shotgun, handle first, toward Layla as a peace offering. “Here, this belongs to you.”

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, she closed the distance and grabbed hold of the weapon. Holding the firearm firmly in her hands but pointed down and away, she immediately felt less tense.

“This is Cara Dune and you can call me Mando,” the man introduced them in an easy, measured tone. It felt more like he was speaking to a frightened child than a 37 year old adult woman.

“Mando? Yeah that’s not your name but whatever.”

“We had some trouble navigating my ship and aren’t entirely sure where we are. We were hoping to head into the closest town for supplies and lodging for the night,” Mando continued ignoring her sarcastic comment.

“Okay, well my name is Layla Boardman. You landed in Yellowstone National Park just outside of Tower Junction, Wyoming.”

“Why-ohming? Is that part of the Sacorria sector?”

“The what?”

Mando sighed again, “what planet is this and what sector?”

“Please tell me you’re kidding. You’re on Earth, dude.”

“Earth?” Cara questioned sharing a look with her friend. “Mando have you ever heard of this planet?”

“This planet is called Earth and we are in the Milkyway galaxy. Don’t ask me for more details because I never paid much attention in Astronomy class in high school,” Layla used a tone she often reserved for rude teenagers at Wal-Mart. “You’re telling me you’re not from this planet?”

“No,” Mando simply stated.

“Oh my God. I’m talking to aliens? Nah, I must have died. That’s it, I’m dead and this is some weird version of Heaven.”

“I promise, you aren’t dead. But you might be soon…” Cara let her empty threat hang in the air.

Before Layla had a chance to retort back, a long howl rang out in the night. Mando and Cara turned away from each other looking out into the darkness in opposite directions. Several more howls returned the first call.

“While I feel I should be freaking out more, we need to get out of here. I doubt those wolves will come too close to us, but I’d rather not take our chances against an entire pack.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Cara asked.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Layla shot back. “Besides, you’re too far from the closest town to walk. So I’m your best bet.”

Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and walked back to the Ranger. Climbing in the vehicle, she started the engine and then turned to look at the two travelers. She watched as they made their way to the UTV. Layla made special note of how Mando seemed to be favoring his left side as he got in behind her. Cara walked around the front and dropped into the passenger seat.

“Hang on, the ride’s gonna be bumpy,” Layla advised as she hit the gas and they shot forward into the countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t tell the interest in this story, but I’m really writing it for me.
> 
> If anyone is reading it, let me know what you think.
> 
> Oh, I haven’t forgotten about Din’s injuries. More on that in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m new to this site but I do have some works on fan fiction.net for Supernatural, Psych, and Once Upon A Time.
> 
> I’m also a passive Star Wars fan. I saw the originals on VHS as a kid, the prequels and sequels in the theater but I have never been a hardcore fan (just to age myself). However, I love the Mandalorian! 
> 
> So with that in mind, I’m still learning the complexities of this fandom. I’m not sure if there are wormholes in SW, but I’m making it happen for this story. I also made up the implant translator vocoders. I was thinking of Farscape from back in the day. 
> 
> Anyway, I haven’t written anything in several years, so please be kind. Thanks for reading.


End file.
